


Point of No Return

by ammiehawk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Ginny Weasley Bashing, M/M, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 21:23:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16026230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ammiehawk/pseuds/ammiehawk
Summary: Ginny, thinking to bind Harry to her, casts an ancient spell. Only she wasn't the one Harry was now bound to. Harry Potter/Avengers crossover





	Point of No Return

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is the third of my April Fool's snippets from Je N'ai Pas De Mots.

Point of No Return

By Ammie Hawk

 

Summary: Ginny, thinking to bind Harry to her, casts an ancient spell. Only she wasn’t the one Harry was now bound to.  Harry Potter/Avengers crossover

 

Prologue

 

Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World, sat at a small table in the library of his current home, twelve Grimmauld Place. The twenty-one year old was pouring over a thin leather bound journal he’d found in the back of the Black library. The text was written in a form of runic language, which would explain the open rune dictionary beside it. Green eyes darted between the two books as he took notes in a Muggle notebook.

Harry had spent the years since the final battle attending Muggle college, with a focus on mythology and ancient civilizations. For his final project, he’d written a dissertation about how magic would influence the twenty first century if it had been allowed to flourish as it had in ancient times. His professors assumed it was purely hypothetical, because magic just simply didn’t exist, but he knew better. In fact, he was currently taking the knowledge he had amassed and was mixing it with wizarding knowledge to write a book that would hopefully educate the Wizarding world into opening up to the possibility of becoming more integrated and public in the non magical world. Which brought him to his current research.

He had found the handwritten journal squashed between two larger tomes on one of the top shelves in a back corner. He had found himself drawn to it by the strange magic it practically radiated. Upon further inspection, he’d discovered it was an old Norse text, dating back to the Vikings or further. It had turned out to be a heavily warded diary of some sort. He had tried a translation spell on it, but the wards made it impervious to anything he’d tried, so he’d dug out the rune dictionary. What he had translated so far, which sadly but unsurprisingly wasn’t much, detailed the daily life of whoever wrote it as well as some really powerful spells. The spells he had encountered so far appeared to be older more powerful variations of common spells. Though if performed straight from the book it would require at least two to three people to achieve the required power. Though at the moment, he seemed to have come across a binding ritual, which seemed to be simple enough to perform, but still.

He was interrupted by a sudden knocking on his front door. He frowned as he set his pencil, he’d found the Muggle utensil much easier to use than a quill, down on his notes and pushed to his feet. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but his friends did have a tendency to show up unannounced. And it had to be one of his friends, because the wards he had around the place wouldn’t let anyone in unless they already knew where it was. With that thought in mind, he relaxed slightly as he made his way to the door. He still exercised caution as he slid the lock and opened it a crack.

“Hey, Harry,” a chipper female voice greeted him.

“Ginny,” he smiled as he opened the door fully. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well,” she said, entering the house, “I have a two week break in training, so I decided to come home and visit everyone.”

“That’s nice,” he nodded. “How is that going anyway?”

“It’s going well,” she smiled, tossing her long red hair over her shoulder. “We’re in the running for the Cup this year.”

“That’s amazing,” he grinned. “I’m proud of you. Anyway, why don’t I go make us some tea? You head upstairs and make yourself at home, I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

She nodded and made her way up the stairs, as Harry made his way down to the kitchen. She entered the library, following the light, and paused when she saw the books scattered across the table. Her curiosity got the better of her and she went over to see what her ex boyfriend was working on. Her eyebrows shot straight into her hair line when she saw the words Harry had scrawled at the top of his notes.

_Binding ritual???_

_To perform this ritual a lock of hair, or piece of self, is required from the one to be bound. Hold the hair with a magical conduit (wand) between your clasped hands, as if in prayer, and recite the words thus:_

Following this was a string of runes. She could read the runes, thanks to her years of taking the course at Hogwarts, but her translation of them was foggy. Luckily, Harry had already translated most of them.

_Oh, God of Thunder, take this offering and make him/her_

He hadn’t gotten the last rune translated, but she was confident it said ‘mine.’ It seemed simple enough. She bit her lip as she glanced toward the doorway. She didn’t see him or hear him on the stairs, but just to be sure, she cast a quick locator spell that told her he was still in the kitchen.

Knowing she needed to act quickly, she pulled her wand and muttered “ _Accio_ Harry’s hairbrush.”

She smirked slightly as she waited for the item to appear. This was so much better than her original plan. Her visit to her ex had a purpose, even if she wasn’t going to tell him that. No, she had only come to slip Harry some of the same slow acting love potion she had given him in her fifth year. If he hadn’t decided to be noble and disappear for almost an entire year, and the potion hadn’t completely left his system, she would be planning her wedding by now. But no, because of that, she had to wait, give an appropriate amount of time for him to adequately miss her, before re-administering it. But this would magically bind him to her forever.

A moment later, the summoned brush sailed into her waiting palm. Her smirk widened when she saw all the jet black hair tangled messily in the prongs. She quickly pulled it all out and balled it up. She placed the wad between her hands, along with her wand, and carefully chanted the runic language.

Harry, who was on his way to the library with the tea, felt a wave of strong magic wash over him. He frowned at the strange, yet vaguely familiar magic, but it hadn’t adversely affected him so he continued to the open doorway. The sight that greeted him had the tray slipping from his suddenly cold fingers. Ginny was standing next to the table with her hands together in front of her with her wand sticking out of the top. The exact stance required for the ritual he’d been translating.

“What did you do?” he asked incredulously.

The redhead visibly jumped and whirled around, dropping the items in her hands in the process. His eyes widened in horror as he watched the black, not red as he’d originally assumed, mass fall slowly to the floor.

“Ginny!” he gasped, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. “Why would you do that? To… to me? I don’t want to be bound to the Norse God of Thunder.”

“Harry,” she said cajolingly, “I didn’t bind you to the God of Thunder.”

“Did you recite this ritual?” he moved over to the table, glaring at her all the while, and pointed at the open journal. “This ritual right here?”

“Well, yes,” she huffed. “But I don’t see why that would make you bound to the God of Thunder, considering it says take this offering and make him mine.”

“No, Ginny,” he ran his hands through his hair agitatedly, “it says _Oh, God of Thunder, take this offering and make him yours_. God, Ginny, I thought you took Ancient Runes at Hogwarts. Can you be any more dense? And what do you mean you thought it said mine? Were you trying to bind me to you? You do know that’s the equivalent of magical rape, right? We’re friends, Ginny, nothing more, not since Hogwarts. But you know what? I don’t even want to be that anymore. Get the hell out of my house and never come back.”

“Harry, you don’t mean that,” she pouted. “You and I, we’re meant to be together. Why can’t you see that?”

“No, we’re not,” his eyes narrowed dangerously, “and after today, I never want to see you again. Now get out before I throw you out.”

Brown eyes stared at him incredulously. When she didn’t move after several more moments, Harry pulled his wand and sent her out of the house. After she was gone, he used a spell he’d gotten from the journal and slammed the most powerful wards he could think of around the house to keep her out.

He sank down into the chair and placed his head in his hands. What was he going to do now? Why was his life so screwed up?

After a moment, he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the cell phone his best friend, Hermione Granger, had given him shortly after she moved to New York two years ago. The bushy haired witch had gone to the States shortly after Hogwarts and had taken an internship with Stark Industries. She had done well for herself, and the last thing he’d heard was that she had become the secretary/personal assistant to the current CEO.

All that aside, he really needed some advice. So not caring about the time difference, he found her number and clicked the call button. It rang three times before it was finally picked up.

~Hello?~ she asked, a bit distracted.

“Mione,” he tried to keep his voice from trembling, “I need your help.”

~Harry, what’s going on?~ her voice turned concerned in an instant.

“Ginny was here… Oh god, I think I’m gonna be sick,” his breathing became shallow as he tried to explain.

~Harry, you need to calm down,~ she said urgently. ~Deep breaths.~ She started regulating her own breathing until he followed suit. ~Now, start at the beginning and tell me what happened.~

“Okay,” he took another deep breath. “I found an old journal in the library that I’ve been translating for my research. Anyway, Ginny came by for a visit and I didn’t think anything of it. I went to make tea and when I got back upstairs, she had performed the ritual I’d been translating. It was a binding ritual.”

~She what?!~ Hermione’s voice rose an octave in outrage. ~Are you saying she bound you to her without your permission?~

“No,” he shook his head, not that she could see it. “The ritual wasn’t one that bound the victim to the caster.”

~Then who, Harry?~ she tried to regain her composure.

“The god of thunder,” he rubbed his forehead, feeling a migraine coming on.

~Oh god,~ she finally lost her composure as her breathing became more erratic. ~Harry, promise you won’t do anything stupid. I’ll be there as soon as I can.~

“Please hurry, Mione,” he barely managed to suppress a sob.

With that, he hung up the phone and tossed it on the table. He then buried his face in his hands. He was so fucked. He had hoped that his best friend would reassure him that it was nothing and that he was overreacting, especially considering who he was supposed to be bound to. But her reaction made it all ten times worse. Though, there was still a small glimmer of hope left. A hope that together they would find a way out of this once she arrived.

888888

Thor gripped the edges of the table in his private sitting room tightly, as he tried to calm himself. He had been in the training yard with the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three when lightning had started dancing around his hands and arms. When he had tried to control it, it had shot out wildly and he managed to blow up a viewing balcony. Luckily no one was there to witness it.

He had decided to beat a hasty retreat to his rooms, hoping to keep others from being injured, as he sent his friends to fetch his parents. When Odin and Frigga finally arrived, he had managed to destroy half of his own balcony and the majority of his furniture. He roared in agony as another uncontrollable pulse of lightning shot out from him.

“Stay back,” he turned pleading blue eyes on his parents.

“Thor, what is going on?” his mother asked, concern lacing her features.

“I do not know, mother,” he flinched as another spasm of lightning raked his frame.

“Enough!” Odin held out his hand toward his son.

The god of thunder staggered slightly as his father’s powers washed over him. He took deep breaths as he felt his powers disappear, much as they had before his banishment.

“What did you do?” his voice trembled with the betrayal he felt.

“I have merely bound your powers temporarily,” the Allfather explained calmly. “It is only a precaution until we get to the heart of the matter. Now, how did this start?”

“I do not know,” he repeated. “I was in the training yard, going through some exercises with Sif and the others when the lightning began without my thought or provocation.”

“That is troubling,” Odin frowned. “I will summon Heimdall and see if he saw anything out of the ordinary. Come.”

The royal family left the devastation of Thor’s chambers, the servants would clean up the mess and have it good as new before the prince returned, and made their way to the throne room. As they walked, Frigga slipped a comforting arm around her son’s shoulders. Thor gave her a small smile in appreciation. Once they reached the throne room, Odin sent out one of the guards to fetch the Bifrost guardian. It took several minutes for him to arrive, but the family felt no need to talk.

“Heimdall,” the king of Asgard said as soon as he was announced, “we have need of your services.”

“What may I do for you, my king?” gold eyes rose to the Allfather.

“A short while ago, my son lost control of his powers,” Odin explained. “Did you see anything, in any of the Nine Realms, that could possibly account for this phenomenon?”

“Yes, my king,” he nodded. “Shortly before it began, a spell was cast on Midgard. A spell of Asgardian origins.”

“Where is the spell caster now?” the king frowned darkly.

“I do not know,” Heimdall shook his head. “Almost immediately after, another spell was cast that blocked them from my sight.”

“How is that even possible?” Thor frowned as well.

“I do not know,” the gatekeeper sighed. “As much as it pains me to admit it, there is only one I know of who has ever managed such a feat. I fear to find this spell caster, we will need Loki’s help.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right,” Odin sighed. “Guards, fetch the prisoner, Loki. Be sure he is bound securely.”

The guard nodded before leaving to follow orders. Once again they waited in silence until the disgraced prince was escorted in.

“Well, it looks like the whole family is here,” green eyes darted between each member of his adopted family. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Loki,” Odin’s voice held an edge of steel, “know that you are here only because your brother’s life may well depend on it.”

“Oh, then by all means, please return me to my cell,” the god of mischief folded his hands in front of his chest.

“Brother,” pained blue eyes turned to the raven, “do you truly hate me so much?”

“It’s nothing personal, Thor,” he turned to his once brother, but paused as he actually got a good look. “You look terrible.”

“If you do this, Loki,” the Allfather drew his attention back to himself, “and you do not cause your brother any trouble, I will consider adjusting your sentence.”

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain, _Father_ ,” green eyes narrowed slightly. “Very well, what has got you desperate enough to call on me for aid?”

“An Asgardian spell was cast on Midgard,” Odin’s one good eye watched his adopted son carefully, “immediately after the caster disappeared from Heimdall’s sight. You and Thor will be delivered to their last known location. When you find them, you will all be brought back and the perpetrator questioned.”

“Goodie, does this mean I’m going to have a cellmate?” he held out his hands so the shackles could be removed, showing his compliance.

“Your shackles will be removed,” the king conceded. “However, you will be wearing this,” he held up a plain looking black cuff. “This will suppress your magic. As I cannot remove your powers as easily as I can Thor’s, this will have to suffice. Just know that you will not be able to remove it.”

He walked down from his throne and approached the trickster. He secured the cuff around Loki’s right wrist before removing the shackles. He then turned his attention to Thor.

“Heimdall will take you to the Bifrost,” he sighed, and placed his hand on the blond’s shoulder. “Good luck, my son.”


End file.
